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For anyone who didn't see David Letterman's take on this:
(And it's a true story...)
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On a recent weekend in Las Vegas, a woman won a bucketful of quarters
at a slot machine. She took a break from the slots for dinner with her
husband in the hotel dining room. But first she wanted to stash the
quarters in her room. "I'll be right back and we'll go to eat," she told
her husband and carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator.
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As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men
already aboard. Both were black. One of them was tall...very tall...
an intimidating figure. The woman froze. Her first thought was:
These two are going to rob me. Her next thought was: Don't be a
bigot; they look like perfectly nice gentlemen. But racial
stereotypes are powerful and fear immobilized her.
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She stood and stared at the two men. She felt anxious, flustered
and ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind but Gosh; they had
to know what she was thinking! Her hesitation about joining them in
the elevator was all too obvious now. Her face was flushed. She
couldn't just stand there, so with a mighty effort of will she picked
up one foot and stepped forward and followed with the other foot
and was on the elevator. Avoiding eye contact, she turned around
stiffly and faced the elevator doors as they closed. A second passed,
and then another second, and then another. Her fear increased!
The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her. My God, she thought,
I'm trapped and about to be robbed!
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Her heart plummeted. Perspiration poured from every pore. Then one
of the men said, "Hit the floor." Instinct told her to do what they told
her. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms
and dove to the elevator floor. A shower of coins rained down on her.
Take my money and spare me, she prayed.
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More seconds passed. She heard one of the men say politely, "Ma'am,
if you'll just tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the button."
The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He was
trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. The woman lifted her head and
looked up at the two men. They reached down to help her up. Confused,
she struggled to her feet. "When I told my friend here to hit the
floor," said the average sized one, "I meant that he should hit the
elevator button for our floor. I didn't mean for you to actually
hit the floor, ma'am."
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He spoke genially. He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard
time not laughing. The woman thought: My God, what a spectacle I've
made of myself. She was humiliated to speak. She wanted to blurt out
an apology, but words failed her. How do you apologize to two
perfectly respectable gentlemen for behaving as though they were
going to rob you? She didn't know what to say. The three of
them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket.
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When the elevator arrived at her floor they then insisted on walking
her to her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and they
were afraid she might not make it down the corridor.
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At her door they bid her a good evening. As she slipped into her room
she could hear them roaring with laughter as they walked back to the
elevator. The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together
and went downstairs for dinner with her husband.
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